


Hate Mail.

by springburn



Series: The Thick of It mini-fics [41]
Category: The Thick of It (TV)
Genre: Explicit Language, F/M, Fear, Love, Marriage, being threatened, hurt feels and angst, mention of past rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-21
Updated: 2016-01-21
Packaged: 2018-05-15 08:12:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5778082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/springburn/pseuds/springburn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Malcolm is sitting at the dinner table, he is miles away, Sam knows something is wrong........</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hate Mail.

**Author's Note:**

> This story comes out of a prompt from Petersgal. 
> 
> "Malcolm and Sam are with the family round the dinner table on Christmas Day, and Malcolm's mind is elsewhere.......that's it!" 
> 
> I've tweaked it slightly in that it's not Christmas Day, but other than that, it's pretty much the prompt.   
> I wrote a seed of this story a very long time ago, when I wrote Dignity, I was going to have it happening to Sam, but I've done a bit of altering and have adapted my original idea and aimed it at Malcolm. 
> 
> The story follows on from THE ANGRY SPIDER, so you might want to read that first to get the idea where this is coming from......although it's not essential. 
> 
> It is in the form of a kind of detective drama, which I watch an unhealthy number of!! So I hope you like it.

HATE MAIL. 

As usual in the Tucker household, mealtimes were a bit of a bun fight.   
Three small children could make one hell of a mess.   
Everyone always sat at the table for the main meal. No trays on laps, no food in bedrooms. Definitely no television or tech of any kind.

It was family time. When everyone got to talk, tell each other about their day. Share and chat and laugh.   
It was the best time. 

Today was different.   
Malcolm was silent. Deep in thought. Detached from the conversation.

"Didn't you Daddy? You said that didn't you?" His son was addressing him excitedly.

"Hmmm? Pardon?" Malcolm snapped back into the room. "Sorry, Jamie, what were you saying? I switched off there for a moment!" 

"Haven't you been listening at all? I was telling Mummy you said you'd take us to the zoo......next week, in the holidays!" The eldest Tucker was shovelling food into his mouth, and talking animatedly at the same time. 

"Oh yeah! I did say that......and I will. Yeah! No worries." His father took a draught of water from his glass. 

Sam eyed her husband suspiciously.   
Something was wrong.   
She knew it. Should she tackle him later, when they'd finished eating, or maybe when they went to bed? Or should she wait patiently for him to tell her? He was well aware that he couldn't hide much from her, she knew him far too well for that. It was also a written rule between them, as husband and wife, that they were a partnership, and there were no secrets between them.   
Sam glanced across at him, he was busily tucking in, eyes cast down at his plate, pointedly avoiding her gaze.

Yes, there was definitely something wrong. 

Christmas and New Year were over. It was the end of January.   
The new book 'The Angry Spider' had sold very promisingly, although he did not consider writing for children to be where his strengths chiefly lay.   
Malcolm had ideas for more stories, but had started on another adult novel instead. 

oOo

 

During the previous week, Malcolm was in his study, busy writing an article for The Guardian. He was often asked, and usually obliged, and the money was good. The landline phone in the hallway rang.   
Sam answered. He heard her put the receiver down immediately.   
"Who was that darlin'?" He called out.  
"No one there," she replied,"one of those bloody pre-dial calls I suppose."  
"We shouldn't get those, we're on the preference and privacy line," he said, annoyed.  
"Well, I guess the odd one filters through," Sam shrugged and carried through a pile of laundry.   
Next day, the same thing happened, twice. Malcolm answered the first time, there was silence on the other end of the line, but, unlike the pre-dial sales calls, he had the impression there was someone there.   
It was 1am when the phone trilled into life again. Sam was asleep, and roused, but Malcolm was reading. Again there was silence.   
Over the course of the week a steady flow of silent calls came through. Sam reported it to the telephone company, and they set up a call monitor.   
The calls ceased as suddenly as they began.

 

Three days later, Malcolm received a letter. In a white printed envelope, it was addressed to him personally. Inside was one plain sheet of paper. He opened it and read the contents, it was a single sentence.....

 

YOU BASTARD. YOU WILL PAY.

 

Malcolm screwed up the note and threw it in the bin. Then thought better of it, rescued it, smoothed it out and locked it in his desk drawer.   
"What does it mean?" He muttered to himself.  
"Fuck knows! Must be some nutter....." He examined the envelope.   
Malcolm knew that he still had many enemies from his previous life, especially following Goolding, and after his memoir was published, but this......  
.........first those phone calls, now this! 

Next day another, identical letter arrived, again, addressed to him, again one sentence......

 

TUCKER. I WILL DESTROY YOU. 

 

Malcolm put the letter and the envelope with the first, in his drawer.   
Should he do something? Go to the police? 

Seemed a fucking waste of their time, and his, all for some wanker who'd got it into his head that Malcolm was fair game.   
He might mention it to Jamie McDonald, next time they were to meet.   
Chances were if he ignored it the cunt would get fed up, if he made a fuss, they'd know they'd got to him and he didn't want to give anyone that satisfaction. 

Nothing came in the mail the following day.   
Malcolm breathed a sigh of relief. 

oOo

Onions sizzled in the pan, Malcolm made a start on dinner. Sam had been out with some girlfriends and had collected the kids from school and nursery on her way home. He sometimes did the school run himself, but Sam had sent him a text telling him not to bother.   
The front door crashed open and they all bundled in, talking nineteen to the dozen, the sound of boots and bags being dumped in the hall.  
"Malc?" A yell from his wife.  
"Kitchen!" He called back. 

She came through and gave him a peck,   
"You've started dinner! You absolute angel!" She smiled. "Jamie! Homework first.....then tv! Where's your school bag?"   
Her eldest son plonked himself unceremoniously on the stool at the counter and emptied the contents of his duffle bag out onto the work top.   
"What's this?" Sam picked up a plain white envelope. "It's addressed to you Malcolm." 

Malcolm's face went white. 

His hand shook as he took the letter from her.   
"When did you get that Jamie? Was it handed out in school?" Sam was at the sink, filling the kettle.  
"No mummy. I didn't know it was in there." Jamie was already opening his maths book and pencil case.  
"James Tucker! What are you like? When you get letters from school you're supposed to tell us! How long has it been in there?" Sam scolded.   
"It wasn't there yesterday......honest! Because I had PE and I emptied the bag out looking for my sock!" Her son barely looked up from his work. 

Malcolm opened the envelope and removed the single sheet it contained.....

 

I KNOW HOW TO HURT YOU TUCKER. 

 

"FUCK! FUCK!" Malcolm rushed along the hallway in a frenzy, clutching the note, reaching the front door he wrenched it open, and ran down the path, looking up and down the street wildly, as if he were expecting to see a menacing figure in the shadows.   
Sam ran after him, her face full of fear.  
"MALCOLM! What is it? What ever's the matter?" She met him coming back inside.  
"Lock all the doors and windows! I'm phoning the police." He snapped, hurrying passed her.   
The children gathered in the kitchen doorway, in a little huddle, Jamie was almost in tears, the other two bewildered.   
"MALCOLM!" Sam exclaimed. "What is going on! Tell me. You're frightening the children, you're sure as hell frightening me." 

"Bastards! Bastards! Think they can threaten my fucking family. I'll fucking eviscerate them." Malcolm was apoplectic with rage.   
Jamie started to sob.   
Temple throbbing, face red. Pacing rapidly up and down. Hand still grasping the envelope. Breathing in and out through clenched teeth. She'd never seen him so livid.....not even in his days at Number Ten.   
"How fucking dare they! If I ever get my hands......." He ranted.  
"Malcolm.......what the fuck is going on?" Sam never swore as a rule, but this was real fear. 

He brushed passed her and into his study, as she calmed the children, settled them in the kitchen, before bolting the back door and the windows, then went through to where he stood by his desk to tackle him.  
She caught the end of a telephone conversation.   
"Yes, that's right.........Just after New Year..........No of course I don't know! Because if I did, I'd tear them apart with my fucking bare hands!.......Fuck yes......loads of people, there's probably a list of people I've upset! Okay officer......yeah, thanks very much. I'll be here. Bye!" He rang off. 

Sam watched, raising her eyebrows questioningly.   
Waited.   
"Are you going to tell me what this is all about?" She asked, gently.   
Malcolm sat down, his head in his hands.  
"What kind of a man is it, that can't protect his family? Fucking hell!" He groaned.   
"Malcolm....?"   
With a sharp, angry movement he unlocked his desk drawer, took out the previous missives and threw them across the table top towards her.   
She scanned them with widening eyes.   
"I fucking ignored them. Thought it was just some prank, or some cunt with a grudge, trying to put the frighteners on me."   
"Any ideas who it is?" She asked quietly.  
"Quite a few! But none who would go as far as to stalk my fucking kids! Think of it Sam......they've either been inside Jamie's school or it was somehow slipped into his bag, going to or from. Either way, they know where we live, they know our routine, they know where our son is....they've let us know that they could have taken him if they wanted.....fuck! Fuck! He's five for fucks sake! What kind of crackpot does that to a fucking five year old?"   
He slammed a fist down on the desk.   
"I swear to god! If I get my fucking hands on whoever it is, they'll be SO FUCKING SORRY!! Threaten me all you like......but my family! I'll fucking kill them."   
"What did the police say? I assume that was them whom you spoke to." Her voice was calm, but there was a tremble in it.  
"They're sending round a plain clothes. I think they were actually concerned. Took me seriously." He replied.  
"I should bloody well hope so. Anyone lays a finger on our child, they'll have me to deal with too! Jamie's not going to school tomorrow. Not unless they can guarantee he'll be safe. As for the other two.....well.......they can go to nursery.....but I'm staying there with them." 

oOo

It was several hours later when Malcolm ushered the officer out.   
As well as the three letters, carefully placed in plastic evidence bags, the detective had a permission form to check phone records. He was hopeful that finger prints might be obtained, most promisingly from the letter slipped in Jamie's school bag, since it had been less handled than the other two. Failing that he was going to try for a DNA sample from the envelope seal. Perhaps the perpetrator had been foolish enough to lick it, then stick it down.   
He assured Malcolm that criminals were quite often not that bright, and could be extremely careless. If the person had form, there was a chance of a match. 

It was late when the Tucker's eventually went to bed. The children were asleep and he had read them a story. The incident earlier all but forgotten, by them. Malcolm left them and switched off the light with reluctance.  
He'd never felt so vulnerable.   
There had been plenty of times in his past when he'd been threatened, with one thing or another. He brushed it off, and lashed back, no one bested him. The danger was out in the open then, political rivalry, the media, work adversaries, he faced them down and beat the fuckery out of them. He was tough as nails. He and Jamie.......the Glaswegian hard boys. The Caledonian Mafia. 

Those days were gone. 

He was a father now, and a husband. This was quite different. This was a threat to people he loved more than his own life.   
An assault upon everything he held dear, aimed not so much at him, but at his wife and family.   
This cut deep.   
Who the fuck hated him that much? 

He wanted to wrap them all up in his arms, keep them secure, that was his job. He was the man for fucks sake. It was up to him to keep his family safe.   
That night he held his wife closer than he ever had before.   
Surrounding her, kissing and caressing her, deep inside her. Telling her over and over again how much she meant to him, filling her with his love, as she gasped beneath him, coming so fucking hard, crying out into the darkness.   
Falling aside, spent and breathless, on to his back. She soothed him. Her head on his chest.  
"It's okay Malcolm. It's okay. They'll catch whoever is threatening us. They will." 

oOo

Jamie Tucker did go to school the next day. With a policewoman stationed outside his classroom. The other children were excited, but they weren't told why she was there, just introduced and accepted. All part of 'Policing in the Community'.   
Malcolm collected his son from the school gate himself.  
He found himself glancing about him constantly. Looking for he didn't know what. A face he might recognise, someone loitering?  
Fuck knows.   
The following day another letter.......

 

LOOK AFTER YOUR LOVELY WIFE.

 

Sam was out when the post arrived.  
Grabbing his phone he rang her in a panic.  
To his relief she picked up.   
"Darling? Where are you?"   
"Just on my way back from nursery. I'll be there in a few minutes. Why?" A note of concern in her voice.  
"Sam. Be careful.....yeah? There's been another letter. Keep your car doors locked, and don't stop for anything......anything.....understand?"   
"Okay.......I'm on Beech Avenue.......God..........Malcolm there's something going on up ahead, looks like a dog has been run over or something, there's a man in the road, waving."   
"SAM. DO A FUCKING U TURN!! Go round the other way. DO IT! JUST DO IT! And don't fucking hang up, keep me on hands free!"  
Malcolm never felt so helpless. He grabbed the landline with the other hand and rang the police.   
"Malc. You still there? I'm heading down Oak Road. I'll be home in a minute."   
"I've got the police on their way to Beech Avenue. Fuck, hurry up Sam....put your fucking foot down!"   
As Sam pulled up outside her own house, she found Malcolm standing on the pavement waiting for her.   
"Thank fuck!" He gathered her into his arms.   
"Let's get inside Malcolm. Come on kids!" Each taking a child in their arms, Malcolm held Grace and Sam, Robbie, they hurried into the house.  
Some half an hour later the police knocked. 

On reaching Beech Avenue they'd found nothing.   
Malcolm was beside himself.   
It was obviously some kind of set up. Knowing her route home, knowing the time she drove that way.   
He felt as if he were going mental, out of his mind with fear and worry. This was serious. Very serious indeed. Supposing the postman had been a few moments later?   
Fuck! 

Two plain clothes officers were now stationed outside his house.   
Malcolm felt as if he were living inside an episode of a detective drama. It was just so fucking ludicrous.  
Who was this nut case? And why were they targeting him like this? He seriously doubted that anyone he may have upset in the course of his political life, would go to these lengths.   
Worse still, was the effect it was having on Sam. Normally calm and serene, she was shaky and tearful. Constantly checking the children.   
Malcolm could actually now understand how it would be possible to kill someone......because that's what he felt like doing......his loved ones were in danger.........he would take on the might of an entire army, in a bid to save them......without a backward glance.   
His anger was hot and fierce. Boiling rage which would not simmer.   
He'd fucking tear someone's head off to make this stop. 

oOo

After a largely sleepless night, the whole family were together in the kitchen, having breakfast.   
There would be no school or nursery today. The police had deemed it unsafe.   
One of them was there now, having tea and toast.....the other remaining outside in the patrol car.   
"Take this out to your mate.....or swap with him.....so he can come in." Malcolm passed the officer a mug of builders tea. 

Just then the phone rang.  
Everyone froze. Staring at it.   
As if it were red hot, and to touch it meant a certain burnt hand.   
Malcolm stepped forward and answered.  
"Tucker!"   
It was the Station. They'd found something. Would they come down? The constables would follow in their car. 

Seated in an interview room, Malcolm was separated from Sam.......much to his consternation, the kids taken off to play by a policewoman.   
"Sorry to do this.....but we need to interview you and your wife separately........" The detective was apologetic.  
"Why the fuck? What's going on?" Malcolm fidgeted and leaned forward to give his best bollocking face.   
"You're here so that we can ask some questions, and take a statement.....your wife too." He handed Malcolm a cup and saucer.   
"Questions? What questions? Am I on trial here......what the fucks happening? Where's Sam?" Malcolm shot rapid fire.

"She's being asked the same questions, but we interview you separately, it's just procedure, so that it's not a joint corroboration, rather it's your individual words. Don't fret Mr Tucker. You've done nothing wrong." 

"Then why do I feel like a fucking criminal......" Malcolm put his head in his hands, running his fingers through his hair. 

"I'm putting the tape on, then I'll ask you some questions.....see if we can get to the bottom of this. Okay?" The officer settled himself in a chair opposite. 

"What do you know about Marcus Danby?" 

Malcolm's eyebrows shot up.

"I know he's a mincing fucking cunt. That's what I know! FUCK! It's not him is it?" Malcolm stood up and pushed the chair back with a scrape.

"Sit down Mr Tucker. Please. Tell me what you know about him." 

"I met him when I was looking for a publisher......had several meetings with him.......he's a bit of a toff.......rich Daddy.......he was pleasant enough.......efficient. I took him on as my publisher for the children's book. The firm was his father's, but he ran it. He offered me a good deal. He was very persuasive. But I was happy with the deal and went with it." Malcolm resumed his seat.

"But you broke with him?" 

"Fucking right! I found out just what a cunt he was. That did it. Told him I wouldn't fucking use him again." Malcolm's face clouded at the memory.

"And why was that?" 

"He was at the book launch party. I introduced him to Sam. She threw a complete wobbly......nearly passed out......had to take her outside, said she didn't feel well. But it was because of him. Bastard! She was at University with him......although not in his little rich boy circle......her friend went out with him, her and Sam had a flat share. She told me he raped her flatmate. Fuck!" Malcolm's hands were shaking. 

"And you believed her?"

"Why the fuck should she lie? She told me she came home from work and found her, Jocelyn I think her name was.......she was in tears, clothes torn.....I don't have to fucking spell it out do I? Sam tried to get her to report him, but she wouldn't. Said it was her own fault. Sam said she dropped out of uni.....left town. She was a mess apparently, got married but it didn't work out. Sam lost touch with her. You need to ask her about it though........."

"We will, don't worry. Now.....moving on......the reason for my questions are simple. A DNA match between him and your envelope has been established. His sample matched our records, he was tested when he was bought in three years ago after an alleged assault. A woman in his office. But the results were inconclusive. However he remained on our books." 

Malcolm whistled through his cheeks.

"Fucking hell! You need to find that woman.....the one Sam shared with. Sam said he was the sort of bloke who was handsie! He groped her once and she told him to fuck off. He didn't try it again......but he was the type who didn't take no for an answer, apparently, used to getting what he wanted." Malcolm stood up again and began to pace. 

"There was an incident, more than fifteen years ago. Long before DNA and all that. A girl bought a complaint. It was investigated, but the charges dropped. Could that be her.....your wife's friend?"

"No. Because she wouldn't report it.......Sam said. She tried to persuade her.......but she wouldn't. Fucking hell. What I don't get though, is why he would be after me and my family like this? .......I mean......I know I pulled away from his company, but that's business. I didn't specify why. Unless.........unless he remembered Sam? He didn't make any indication that he did.....although he did say she was quite the stunner......that evening......I remember. Lecherous prick!" He slumped back into the chair with a huff. 

"I think that maybe the business is not doing as well as it might." The detective replied, leafing through an old paper file.   
"I've had an officer investigate the firm. Let's say I think the Inland Revenue will be quite interested......and they've been losing clients and money like water through a sieve lately. Maybe you were the 'great white hope' for the company's fortunes......then you backed off?"

"Sam said he was a nasty piece of work! Fucking fuck me! He's rich too......powerful......friends in high places, his father is quite the bigwig too......plays golf with your Chief Commissioner......in the old 'rolled up trouser leg' brigade!" 

"Ah! The old Masonic Lodge eh? Well his fortunes have most definitely been on the down for some time......perhaps Daddy has refused to help any more........something has clearly got him seriously pissed.......and you seem to be the focus of his hatred." 

oOo

Sam sat bolt upright on the hard chair. Glancing around the blank and stark room nervously.   
A police woman and the plain clothes sat down opposite her.   
"Where's my husband?" She asked, meekly.  
"We have to talk to you both separately Mrs Tucker. Don't distress yourself. It's just our normal procedure."  
Sam began to cry. She couldn't stop herself.  
"I want Malcolm." She sobbed. 

The female constable fetched her some tea, she was asked the same questions they asked Malcolm.   
Reliving the night she came home from her waitress job, fifteen years before, lost none of its potency.   
It made Sam even more upset. She also recounted the evening of the book launch, seeing Danby again, what a shock it had been.   
Recalling everything she could about Jocelyn was tough, but she remembered enough that they could at least attempt to trace her.   
Eventually, the friendly interrogation over, Sam and Malcolm were reunited. 

His wife fell into his embrace......weeping and trembling, the events of the last couple of days overwhelming her.   
Malcolm did nothing except give soothing words and strong arms. It was all she needed. 

It wasn't until they emerged into the corridor, to return home, that it happened.....  
Coming out of the interview area, just as, who should be ushered through for an interview of his own?.....  
........but Marcus Danby himself. 

Malcolm had an arm protectively around his wife's shoulder. She spotted Danby before her husband did. 

It was mere seconds......Sam launched herself at him in a vicious fury.

"YOU UTTER CUNT!" She screamed. "You frightened the shit out of my children! HOW DARE YOU!" 

Bringing her fist back she landed a right hook......Tyson would have been proud.......before Malcolm or anyone else could stop her. 

She split his lip. 

"You threatened my fucking family. You bastard! My little boy!" Her voice was as high pitched as a banshee.  
She was wrestled off him by two police officers and Malcolm himself......but she was unbowed and unrepentant. 

Malcolm was probably never more proud of his wife than at that moment.   
He only wished it had been him to land the punch.....with luck he might have managed to floor him! 

oOo

The trial of Marcus Danby went ahead following a psychiatrists report.   
Both Malcolm and Sam attended every day.   
Other women came forward with tales of assault.   
It was with great sadness, however, that Sam learned of Jocelyn's suicide, five years after the attack which had changed her life so completely.   
She never really recovered, according to her ex husband, who was also called as a witness. 

Years of drug abuse, which began at University were contributory to his already fragile mental state, according to his Doctor.  
It was small consolation to either Malcolm or Sam as they left the court house on the final day after he'd been sentenced. The sorry catalogue of his life, monied and privileged as it had been, the utter waste he'd made of it, and his own father's despair at the final degradation of his only son, were scant reparation for all that had happened.  
They wanted to put it behind them and get on with their lives. 

Malcolm booked a break away immediately following the end of the court case.  
He took his eldest son out of school and they all 'ran away'......just for a couple of weeks, to be together, as a family.  
Some quality time, his three little ones and the wonderful, remarkable woman he'd been lucky enough to marry. 

It was all Malcolm wanted. It was all he ever needed.


End file.
